


The Thoughts Asylum

by SerpentInRed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentInRed/pseuds/SerpentInRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A home for some of the drabbles or short stories that I'd written. The main pairing is, of course, Hermione/Tom Marvolo Riddle-Lord Voldemort. Some drabbles will be serious, some will be silly. Different genres and ratings for each story. Warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter. Read at your own discretion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary** : The first time he declared his love towards her …  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Basically, I started this thread so that I can have a home for some of the drabbles (under 1,000 words) that I write for the prompts challenges over at LiveJournal.
> 
> ~-0-~
> 
>  **Notes** : Serp wants to write a sappy story, so a sappy story she will write.
> 
> ~-0-~
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Rating** : R  
>  **Warning/s** : AU, adult themes, mentions of adult themes, sappiness  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid. Or basically ... run.  
>  **Prompt Challenge** : fanfic100  
>  **Prompt** : 034. Not Enough

"I love you."

The barely audible hiss shouldn't have been so easily heard, especially with her panting so loudly.

A satisfied, almost obsessed, gaze entered his eyes as he observed her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he brought her closer to him. He heard her taking in a sharp breath, and that pleased him immensely. However, it was simply not enough for him. He wanted so much more from her. Raising his free hand, he brushed a single finger sensually down her cheek, connecting the beads of sweat on her face.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, she moaned, her voice weak, and he knew that the only reason her body wasn't moving was because she was simply too tired.

"Look at me, Hermione," he said softly, tipping her chin upwards so that her eyes were staring at him.

A sigh left his lips as she determinedly tried to concentrate her stare on the snake-like man in front of her.

"How does it feel like to have finally taught the Dark Lord how to love?" he asked.

She didn't answer him, though the look in her eyes was enough.

A high, cold laugh resounded throughout the cell as he stepped away from her. "How can I not love you when you've provided me with so much entertainment after Potter's death?"

"Go to hell," she said through gritted teeth in answer to his mockery.

His non-existent eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement, and his contentment rose to another level, knowing that he had defeated her once more—he'd forced her to speak again.

However, he still wanted to finish the evening off with a perfect ending.

With a flick of his wand, he cast another torturing spell towards her.

~-0-~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : Serp slinks off.


	2. Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary** : After so many years of toiling, she finally was on her way to rest in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : K+  
>  **Prompt Challenge** : Quill it or Die Trying  
>  **Prompt** : 040. Hell  
>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid.  
>  **Warnings** : Angst(?)

Many people might complain, if they had been in her shoes. After all, death was already a touchy subject, and dying at such a young age of sixty-three would've rendered many people speechless and angry.

However, if she absolutely had to lay the verdict down, life had been kind to her. Looking back at the adventures she'd had, she was grateful for them. Not to say that she was glad that Lord Voldemort nearly took over the world, but meeting Harry, becoming his friend, and helping him through thick and thin were things that she wouldn't exchange the world for.

Therefore, she hardly thought about complaining when she took her last breath in life, despite saddened by the fact that she might not see Harry or Ron or her children again for a long time—if there was indeed an afterlife.

And an afterlife there was, she realized when she opened her eyes and discovered that she was no longer lying in her bed at home. Instead, she found herself someplace that reminded her strongly of the Entrance Chamber back in the Department of Mysteries, except there were far many more doors here.

For a moment, she wondered if she could still do magic in the afterlife and if she had her wand at all. Since she still had on the clothes she was wearing when she died, she immediately checked the wand holster up her sleeve and was more than relieved to find it there. Now, she only had to check if magic still worked.

After randomly choosing a door, she walked up to it and cautiously pulled it open, her wand at the ready. A cold draft blew out and the moment she peered inside, she was almost frustrated to find that there was nothing inside, just a long tunnel of darkness.

_Hopefully, that's not the case with all of the doors._

Shutting the door, she took a step back before flicking her wand at it. Happiness surged through her body as she gazed at the fiery X that was now imprinted there. The afterlife didn't seem to be too bad after all, especially when all the fatigue and weakness she had been suffering from while she was alive seemed to have disappeared.

However, her feelings of elation soon died out when she'd opened door after door, only to find dark tunnels in all of them.

Was she supposed to just pick one and walk down it?

That thought didn't sit well with her at all. However, that seemed like the only right answer when she kept getting confronted with dark tunnels whenever she opened a door.

And finally, she was left with only two more doors. Taking a deep breath, she extended her arm and opened the one on her right. Bright light spilled through the doorway, and it took her a couple of seconds to adjust her eyes to the difference in lighting. However, once she did, her mouth dropped opened.

Without thinking any further, she stepped into the room, her eyes shining brightly as she eyed the enormous collection of bookshelves, each stuffed to the maximum with tomes. She hardly even noticed it when the door slammed shut behind her, dissolving into nothingness before being replaced by another bookshelf filled with books.

The soft tappings of her shoes were the only sounds that echoed through the room as she walked down the aisles, and she would've continued staring at the books in awe if she hadn't caught a glimpse of black from the corner of her eye. Before she could turn around, however, her arms snapped to her sides, and she toppled over, landing on her back.

It couldn't be. It just simply couldn't be. It had to be a dream. Fate wouldn't be so cruel as to punish her  _ **after**_  her death, could it? It wouldn't—it  _ **couldn't**_  possibly condemn her to hell after all she'd done—

She stared in horror as he walked up to her, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the floor as his black robes swirled around them like an ominous cloud.

How could he possibly be here? His soul was split apart. He shouldn't be here, not like this, not in this way—

"Hermione Granger," he hissed, a vicious smirk gracing his snake-life features. "Pleased to make your …  _ **acquaintance**_."


	3. Quills and Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary** : Sometimes, that classmate who sits next to her annoys her just a bit too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Rating** : M  
>  **Warning/s** : AU, in which Hermione and Tom are in the same class. No specific time period, so it can be a time-traveling fic or not.  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid. Or basically ... run.  
>  **Prompt Challenge** : fanfic100  
>  **Prompt** : 037. Sound

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

The sound of quill writing on parchment usually made Hermione happy, calmed her down. For the first time, however, she felt nervous and annoyed.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

She inhaled deeply and looked back at her parchment which was shamefully blank except for her name at the top. She willed her mind to start thinking lready.

_Ignore the sounds around you, ignore the sounds around you._

_**Scratch, scratch, scratch.** _

She resisted the urge to scream. She didn't know why nothing was coming to her mind. She knew all the material, but she couldn't translate it onto parchment.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

_**Someone**_  was obviously have no problem at all. That thought made her sick in the stomach. She was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age! She wasn't supposed to get stuck on something like this.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

Then, the sound stopped, and her parchment remained unmarked. The sound of quill being placed on the table reached her ears, and from her peripheral vision, she saw  _ **him**_  lean back, leisurely but still gracefully and elegantly, as if he had been taught to do so since he was a child.

As if he hadn't just finished a forty-minute test in twenty.

She narrowed her eyes and sent him a death glare to which he answered with a faint smirk.

"Eyes ahead, Granger, or people might think you're cheating," Tom Marvolo Riddle said in a low voice, his lips hardly moving.

She bit back the urge to growl at him but looked back at her parchment nonetheless. She didn't need him spreading rumors that she was copying off his test.

Thankfully, without the sounds of him writing, inspiration finally came to her. She finished writing one minute before the professor asked for the parchments, and though that would've been a somewhat happy occasion for others, it bothered her. Especially the fact that he had finished the test way before she did.

It didn't help that he still had that annoying smirk on his face after they left the class.

~-0-~


	4. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary** : And so their mental battle persisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Rating** : T  
>  **Warning/s** : Mind games  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid. Or basically ... run.  
>  **Prompt Challenge** : fanfic100  
>  **Prompt** : 008. Weeks

"I think one of his Horcruxes should be located here. What do you think, Hermione?" the bespectacled, green-eyed young man asked, pointing at a spot on the map in his hand.

He and his red-haired best friend both gazed at the bushy-haired witch expectantly, almost like she held all the answers in the world.

They were settled in an unknown forest. Occasional breezes swept through the leaves, moving the lighter branches out of the way and allowing minimal sunlight to shine on their camping area. They had been looking through books and all the information they had about Tom Marvolo Riddle. When they came across something of interest, the two young men would always look towards the witch for suggestions and analyses.

But she never answered their questions.

Coldly, she kept her mouth shut. Minutes passed, and the uncomfortable silence prolonged, until Ronald Weasley threw up his hand in frustration.

"It's been weeks, Hermione. What is your problem?" he exclaimed.

Harry Potter grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

"Is there something wrong?" the dark-haired young man asked, turning to face Hermione Granger and reaching out to touch her on her shoulder.

Abruptly, she swung her arm backwards, nearly hurting herself.

"Do not touch me," she warned venomously, narrowing her eyes.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, surprised at her reaction while Ron rolled his eyes.

"Forget it, Harry. It's obvious that she doesn't want to help us with this. Why did she even come along with us if she's not going to help us?" the redhead complained loudly.

Her eyes flicked from one person to the other, a cold sneer appearing on her face. She was not going to fight with Ron—a  _ **fake**_ one, no less.

True, everything that was surrounding her seemed and felt real enough, as if it was directly extracted from her memory. From the scorching sunlight to the light winds that blew through her hair and clothes, there was hardly anything that gave away the fact that it was an illusion.

Except those brief moments when she turned around.

That was when she saw him.

His burning red eyes ... his flowing black robes ... his formidable yew wand held casually in his hand ... that despicable smirk that lingered on his lips while he leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in ...

He did not care that she knew it was him; his only objective was to play with her mind, and she would be damned if she allowed herself to break down.

She mildly remembered that she had been frightened the first time she saw him, but days, weeks, months went by, and she had slowly learned to overcome that fear.

Tightening her hands into fists, she closed her eyes and relaxed, until she found where he was.

Her muscles tensed again the moment she felt the presence of his dark magic, and she opened her eyes, turning her body at the same time. As per usual, Ron and Harry's voices began to fade, as well as the trees and sunlight, until greyness surrounded her, until only she and her enemy remained.

His eyes flared before they narrowed, staring at her with the same amount of hatred she was feeling.

It seemed impossible, but her hatred for him grew with each day she spent here. He distorted her memories, forcing her to relive them, trying to find out just how much she knew. The amount of information she had in that small part of her brain was inaccessible to him, and that was what he wanted.

But she was denying him exactly that.

Gone were those days when she worried about just how much he had learned in the early days when she did not know that what she was seeing were fake. Apparently, she had not spoken enough for him to leave her alone.

And so their mental battle persisted.


	5. Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary** : The skin of the corpse was even paler than when he was alive. Combined with the black robes he was still wearing, if Hermione had wanted, she could almost convince herself that she was watching a black and white movie. A black and white horror movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : PG-13  
>  **Prompt** : 020. Colourless  
>  **Word Count** : 945  
>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid.

The door to the chamber slammed shut behind her.

Usually, Hermione Jean Granger liked silence, since it gives her the space to think. However, the quietness in here was always unsettling.

She recomposed herself, squaring her shoulders and willing the gooseflesh that had risen since the moment she entered the chamber to subside. Once that was accomplished, she stepped forward resolutely, until she was standing right in front of the bed situated in the middle of the room.

It was a plain bed, ones you would find in any hospital with white bed covers spread across a single size mattress. What made it different was the stretch of many buttons lined on the side, each with a different function. However, most wizards and witches probably wouldn't notice the buttons because their attention would, most likely, be caught by the occupant lying on top of the bed.

The skin of the corpse was even paler than when he was alive. Combined with the black robes he was still wearing, if Hermione had wanted, she could almost convince herself that she was watching a black and white movie.

A black and white _**horror**_ movie.

Strictly speaking, after the first couple of times she'd been here, his features no longer frightened her. It might be jarring at first when being exposed to someone without a nose, eyebrows, and lips. But after the initial shock passed, she realized that his other features weren't as distorted as she had first thought they were. As childish as it was, she'd tried to imagine him with the features he had magicked away, and she realized that she could almost understand why he was considered good-looking when he was younger.

Well, he would've been a hell of a lot better looking to her and the rest of the people working at the Ministry if his corpse would just rot away like any normal dead bodies out there.

 _Merlin forbid Lord Voldemort's corpse to be like any other normal dead body_ , Hermione thought with a roll of her eyes.

After the final battle at Hogwarts, everyone had thought that that would be the end. After all, Voldemort had dropped dead in front of them. Hell, even Hermione, Ron, and Harry had thought that that would be the end.

That was until Hermione started to work at the Ministry as an Unspeakable and found out that his corpse was still kept in one of the many chambers of the Department of Mysteries.

Even today, she felt that she deserved an award for her ability to not tell her two best friends that Voldemort's corpse was still around. Or maybe one to compliment her for not screaming at Ministry officials for keeping something so important to themselves.

For some reason, the Ministry couldn't dispose of it. They'd tried different methods, even some of the shadier spells, but none of them worked. It was as if Voldemort had some kind of super ward on it to prevent people from destroying his body.

At the beginning, the people at the Ministry had been afraid that he might awake again. However, after ten years of inactivity, though they still remained cautious, "braver" individuals were sent to investigate why the corpse of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't rotting and how.

"Braver" because people being sent there didn't necessarily want to go; they were sent there because they were bloody Unspeakables. And because they were Unspeakables, they weren't permitted to even talk about what they were working on at work.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione clicked on one of the many buttons to lower the wards the Ministry had placed around him and picked up the clipboard.

As her eyes skimmed over the things written on it, a sudden movement caught her attention.

Her head immediately whipped towards the corpse as her heart suddenly started pounding harder than usual. She swallowed hard as she pulled out her wand. Her hands slightly shaking, she cast a spell over the body. Seconds later, statistics floated upwards in a puff of smoke, giving her proof that he was still dead.

Slowly, her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal as she pocketed her wand again. It must have been the trick of the light. She gazed at the corpse again, making sure that it was still the black and white picture she had been seeing every single day and there was no specks of red anywhere. It was, after all, common to falsely see things from one's peripheral vision.

However, the other side of her mind, the instinctual side of it, refused to let her calm down, even as her eyes returned to the clipboard. Unconsciously, her eyes still drifted back to the corpse, and more than once, she'd thought about alerting one of her co-workers, but then thought better of it. If she'd told them about it, they would, most likely, run the same test she did, see the statistics, and then come to the conclusion that Hermione Granger was breaking down from the stress.

She would never hear the end of it, and the last thing she needed was more gossip in her life. Years and years of the newspapers speculating her relationship with Harry, Ginny, and Ron had been more than enough for her.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to concentrate on what was written on the clipboard.

All of a sudden, she saw it again.

Her eyes snapped upwards. Her body froze when she realized it _**hadn't**_ been the trick of light before and somehow the spell for statistics malfunctioned or it just somehow didn't work on _**him**_.

For she was now staring right into the blood-red eyes of the somehow revived Lord Voldemort.


	6. Tomione Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Lord was surprised to find a certain Muggle-born witch at his doorsteps. The reason why she'd appeared, however, was what truly disturbed him ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : Everything from the Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not making any profit from this.  
>  **Rating** : T  
>  **Warning/s** : None  
>  **Betas** : None. Be afraid. Very afraid. Or basically ... run.  
>  **Prompt** : Written for Pumpkin-dream's Tomione Day, May 29th, on Tumblr.
> 
> ~-0-~
> 
>  **A/N** : Okay, yes, I know this one-shot is incredibly silly, but … yeah … I didn't want to do something too dark for Tomione Day, so silliness it is.
> 
> ~-0-~

It was strange, to say the least, when Lord Voldemort found a certain Muggle-born witch at the front door. Well, it was actually one of his Death Eaters that had seen her and reported to him about it—he had rewarded said Death Eater with a round of Crucios for failing to tell him before she'd reached his front door and the pathetic follower who had been in charge of guarding the front gate had been properly disposed of—but technicalities and all that boring stuff.

He was curious.

The last time he had heard about Hermione Granger, she had been hunting for his Horcruxes with Potter, so what was she doing here?

So, he decided to give in to his curiosity and granted her a meeting. Her eyes had caution but none of the fear that was so common in ordinary wixens.

_Interesting._

"Hermione Granger. I welcome you," he said softly, running a single pale finger down the length of his yew wand. "Pardon me for getting straight to the point, but to what do I owe the pleasure of having you here on your own free will?"

Both of them knew that if he captured her, Potter would have no choice but to surrender, so he could not imagine why she would dare to come here alone.

Taking a deep breath, she stared straight into his blood-red eyes. "There's a good reason why I'm here."

He raised a non-existent eyebrow in a mocking manner.

She ignored it and continued, "Have you ever heard of the term 'fanfic'?"

Voldemort gave pause. Before he could answer her, she continued speaking.

"Given your obvious dislike towards all things Muggle, I'm going to assume you don't."

She then promptly gave him a lecture on what fanfic was, including what the words "canon", "shipping", and other terms meant.

"As … fascinating as all of this drivel is, I fail to see how it concerns me," Voldemort said once she had finished.

"Someone wrote a book series called 'Harry Potter' in the Muggle world," Hermione said.

"That person won't be the first or last person to be a fan of Potter," Voldemort said in disgust.

Of course, he would make any fans of Potter pay once he took over the world.

A wry smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Judging purely from the books, I can't decide whether she's a fan of Harry or not, but that's not the point. In the Muggle world, the Harry Potter series is considered canon, not fanfic."

Voldemort rolled his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione continued. "The real problem is … a certain group of fans of the Harry Potter series."

"They cheer for Potter. There's something wrong with them by default," Voldemort said with another roll of his eyes."

"There are people … who ... " She then muttered something that was impossible to hear, regardless of how good of a hearing Voldemort had.

He stared at her, not bothering to ask her to repeat herself. As they locked eyes with one another, Hermione's cheeks grew redder until they rivaled the hair color of the Weasleys.

"There are people who ship you and me," she blurted out as quickly and loudly as she could.

This time, he ogled at her in disbelief and disgust.

"If this is a joke—"

"Why would I joke about something like this? And it would be extremely stupid of me to walk into your place, risking my own well-being, just to pull a prank on you," she told him. "I'd … I'd also heard that they're naming May twenty-ninth 'Tomione Day' and—"

" _ **What**_ day?"

"Tomione. As in ... as in Tom and Hermione but in shortened form."

If Voldemort wasn't so outraged by the news of someone daring to ship him with a Mudblood, he would've Cruciated said Mudblood for saying his birthname.

"—making it a national holiday over at this country that nobody cares about called the Gutter City."

"What?"

"They're making it, that is, Tomione Day, a national holiday at Gutter City," Hermione repeated herself.

Voldemort's fingers tightened around his wand. "Who was the person who dared to suggest putting the two of us together?"

"I would show you, but I don't think Muggle technologies work in here," Hermione said.

He glanced at her, impressed that she had taken note of one of the wards he'd used. However, that also meant that perhaps the rumors weren't false, and she was as intelligent as they had told her. If that was true … given that she was on Potter's side, he would either have to sway her or kill her. She was a Gryffindor, not a Hufflepuff, though the Sorting Hat was known to be wrong at times.

However, that was not the most important thing right now. Getting rid of those who think that Tomione Day would be a good idea was far higher on his priority list right now.

"According to my investigations, Tomione Day was proposed by a certain individual going by the name of 'Pumpkin', though they sometimes go by 'pumpkin-dream' as well," Hermione said. "The official date, however, was chosen by a list of individuals. I hacked into the system and took down the names."

With a flick of her wand, a list appeared out of thin air and flew towards Voldemort. After looking it over, Voldemort glanced at Hermione.

"I propose a momentary truce, in order to rid the world of these sick individuals," Hermione said.

He gave her a nod. Looking back at the list of names in his hand, his lipless mouth curled into a cold smile.

~-0-~

Two cracks resounded through the air. Black silk robes flowed around Voldemort as he strode forward. Before he reached the front door, Hermione grabbed onto his arm. He sneered at the offending hand. Rolling her eyes, Hermione released her grip.

"Aren't you going to check to see if there are wards?" she asked.

He sneered. "Only silly Muggles would see it appropriate to fantasize about putting Lord Voldemort and a Mudblood in a romance."

She snorted—the nerve of the woman! If she hadn't been and would probably be useful, he would've disposed of her already.

He gazed at the place they had landed. According to what Hermione had said, this was where the daring Pumpkin lived. They both agreed that it would be best to nip the problem at its bud and so they had decided to "visit" the creator of Tomione Day first, to serve as a warning to the rest of the people who dared to ship Lord Voldemort and Hermione Granger.

Hermione had also brought along what she said was called a "camera phone". She would use it to record how Voldemort "thanked" Pumpkin and upload it to the Internet.

The two of them entered Pumpkin's house and … found it empty.

"Is this a trap?" Voldemort hissed, rounding on Hermione after searching the house three times over.

Hermione scowled as she continued glancing around the house for any trace of humans. "Perhaps … they found out we were coming and are hiding? Oh! Perhaps you can lure them out somehow."

"Lure them out?"

"You know … use a Glamour Charm or something. I'd heard that many of the—" She shivered, much like a pureblood would when they used the word Muggle. "— _ **Tomione**_ shippers really like, er, your looks from your younger days. You know … before you became all snake-like."

His non-existent eyebrow arched upwards again.

"Seriously?"

"I'm serious. Look," she said, showing him a few posts on the Internet.

After seeing the evidence, he let out an exasperated sigh and he opened his mouth to speak. However, before he could, Hermione looked at him with widened eyes.

"What?" he snapped.

"Uhn, mhf, duh."

With her cheeks a flaming red once again, she turned her gaze away from him. However, he still caught her stealing little glances at him.

" _ **What**_?" he demanded.

"Testing, testing, one, two, testing."

Voldemort whirled around, looking for the source. It turned out to be an intercom.

"Do you like what you see, Hermione?" another voice spoke up through the intercom.

"Wait, I'm not certain if they hear us inside yet. Let me check the mic again—"

"The Dark Lord is staring at the intercom. Of course it works, or else they would still be looking for Pumpkin," a third voice spoke up.

"Good lord, look at that fine specimen. Why does Hermione get all the fun!?" a fourth voice whined.

"Now's not a good time for that," the second voice said, annoyed. "Anyhow ... Hermione, tell us your opinion of the Dark Lord's looks."

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked, confused and snapping out of her previous discomfort.

"You saw her reactions. She obviously thinks he's cute," the third voice said.

"What is this nonsense?" Voldemort hissed.

"Ohhhhh, look! He still looks so cute when he's pissed off!" the fourth voice squealed.

"You might want to see for yourself," Hermione said quietly, giving him a hand mirror.

His mouth uncontrollably dropped open. His snake-like features were gone, and in their place was the face he had tried so hard to get rid of.

"It appears that I was correct and there are wixen folks amongst them," Hermione said.

That was the last straw on the camel's back. Whipping out his wand, he threw a curse at her. Unfortunately, she managed to duck out of the way.

"Ohhhh, look! Angry sex, angry sex!" someone chanted through the intercom.

However, Voldemort's concentration was no longer on them. Instead, his concentration was on hexing the damned witch that was more slippery than he had thought. Her wand was out now, and every once in a while, she would fling a curse back at him.

The insolent Mudblood! He would curse her if it was the last thing he did!

~-0-~

In a secret, warded room somewhere far away, everyone huddled around the computer, watching as their favorite Dark Lord and Muggle-born witch tried to kill one another.

"Do you think …" someone trailed off.

"Yeah, I think just a bit more."

"What? Before they kill one another?"

"Nah, before they snog one another senseless. We know better than they do: This is definitely their form of foreplay."

"Ohhhhhh."

"What if … they manage to get out of that place?" someone asked.

"It does have some of the best wards to keep wixens in. Well, at least until they, you know …" A soft giggle escapes her lips. "... with one another."

"And then the spell breaks?"

"Yeah, so … how about we find a better secret place so that they can't find us once they get out?"

Everyone looked at one another.

"Nah, let's watch the show first," they chorused before they turned their attention back to the computer screen once more.

~-0-~


End file.
